


The Cloak Of Laughter

by nhasablog



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Cloak of Levitation (Marvel), Fluff, No Spoilers, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 22:43:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14778675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nhasablog/pseuds/nhasablog
Summary: Lots of laughter, a near drowning and an entirely wet bathroom floor later, the cloak was clean, and Strange had a plan.(Or, Strange tries to wash the cloak and discovers something interesting that he of course has to share with Tony immediately.)





	The Cloak Of Laughter

**Author's Note:**

> First half of this was based on a prompt an anon sent me on tumblr, the second was based on [my own headcanon](http://nhasablog.tumblr.com/post/174271564144/stephen-strange-getting-the-cloak-to-tickle-people). I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> There are no Infinity War spoilers in here btw!

Who would’ve thought fighting criminals in New York City could be such dirty work? Literal dirty work, Strange thought in dismay. He was standing before the full length mirror that had come with his temporary room in the Avengers Tower, which Tony had managed to rebuild and refill with, well, Avengers.

What he saw was a man akin to the one who had gone to Kamar-Taj; dirty, beat up, simply beat. It was merely an illusion now. Nothing a little soap and a good meal couldn’t fix. It took a toll on his pride to accept a bed and food from Stark, since once upon a time he hadn’t needed to rely on anyone financially. But Tony had called him stupid when he’d first declined, and Stephen Strange was anything but stupid.

So his pride had to suffer, but at least no other part of him did.

“You look like crap,” Stark had told him after the battle, and Strange had felt a laugh rumble in his chest.

“I was tossed into a dumpster,” he’d said, and Tony had laughed and laughed. Strange couldn’t believe that man could still carry so much joy inside him after everything.

The smell was washed off easily from his skin, but it was when he wrapped himself in a towel and caught sight of his clothes that he winced. Good thing the room was filled with clothes that all fit him, or else he’d have to find a momentary home in this towel.

The bathroom had a shiny washing machine tucked in a corner, most likely unused. Strange pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, relishing in the comfort and the feeling of not having to look put together for once. He grabbed his dirty clothes and started loading the machine, but he encountered a problem sooner than he’d thought.

“Get in,” he told the cloak, frowning when it did the equivalent of shaking its head. Wong had once said the cloak reminded him of the flying matt in Aladdin, and Strange hadn’t been able to unsee it ever since. “Don’t make me force you. I know you can’t drown.”

But the cloak still refused, managing to slip out of his hands and levitate across the room.

“Well, I can’t leave you looking like  _that_. Have you seen yourself?”

The cloak was barely red anymore, stains of every color covering the material. It would almost look cool if the smell wasn’t awful (and the fact that Strange couldn’t identify half the stains).

“Look, I get that being in a washing machine might be uncomfortable-”

The cloak would probably snort if it could.

“-but I need to wash you.”

The cloak moved closer and stopped by the gigantic bathtub Strange had wanted to use, but knew he’d stay in for far too long and had thus opted for the shower.

“You want me to wash you by hand?”

The cloak nodded, and Strange sighed.

“Fine. You’re lucky I need you.”

It wouldn’t be so bad if the cloak would actually stay still. It had started well enough. Strange was scrubbing its edges lightly, finding that most of the stains were easy to wash off. But the further he got the harder it seemed to get to remove them, and not only that. The more he scrubbed, the less the cloak seemed to want to be there, if its squirming was any indication.

“Be  _still_ ,” he said for the tenth time. “This was your idea and I want this to end as much as you do.”

The cloak did the exact opposite of that, instead wriggling so much it started splashing the water. But then again, maybe it was its intention. A desperate attempt to get Stephen to let go.

“All right,  _what_ is going on?” he asked, finally backing off when his shirt was more wet than dry. “You asked for this and now you can’t seem to get away quickly enough.” He pointed to it in accusation. “And now that I’ve let go you seem as content as ever.”

The cloak wasn’t getting out of the water, and if it had a face Strange would guess it’d look sheepish.

Strange frowned and reached out for it, but paused when it recoiled from his fingers. “Am I hurting you? Is that it?” He held up his palms. “I can be more gentle.” He didn’t mention that he’d been as gentle as he used to be during surgeries. “Here, see?” He held up his index finger. “One finger won’t hurt you.”

He brought it slowly toward it, and the cloak remained still this time. Strange let his fingertip collide with the hem of the cloak, but it started twitching almost as soon as he tried to move it downward.

And then it clicked.

Or?

No, it was too silly.

Right?

“Are you ticklish?” Strange asked incredulously. “You are, aren’t you? That’s why you’re squirming.”

The cloak pretty much crossed its arms defensively, but Strange was now absolutely certain it was true.

“Well, this is interesting. I was under the impression you couldn’t feel anything.” Strange poked it again, curious. “Oh, that’s a bad spot, isn’t it?”

He should’ve known the cloak wouldn’t let him have his fun for too long, but he hadn’t expected the retaliation to be so wet. In one swift motion, the cloak wrapped itself around Strange’s waist, soaking the rest of his shirt and making him let out a shriek he wasn’t proud of.

“Let go!” he cried, a laugh escaping his lips when the cloak started buzzing.

_Oh no._

_No no no._

“Don’t!”

But the cloak wasn’t listening. How he could be tickling him by merely buzzing was beyond him, but Strange wasn’t in any place to be thinking. All he could do was double over and laugh as if his life depended on it. He thought that he for sure would’ve been able to withstand it longer, but there was something about the fact that he couldn’t even move away without the cloak following that made it worse. He was glad they were alone.

“Stohop it!” he begged, gripping the bathtub with one hand to keep himself from falling over while the other grabbed at the cloak in a desperate attempt to get him to let go. “Please, I won’t try to wash you!”

He swore he could feel the cloak laughing at him. He tried to stand, figuring he’d have bigger luck at getting him off using both hands.

And promptly fell into the bath.

Because of course he did.

He spluttered as he emerged, realizing this tub was way deeper than a regular one. He huffed in dismay, but at least the cloak had decided to leave him be and was unwrapping itself from his sensitive midriff. “Not so fast.”

He managed to grab the mischievous little thing and scrub off the last of the stains, but not without a cost. Lots of laughter, a near drowning and an entirely wet bathroom floor later, the cloak was clean, and Strange had a plan.

* * *

 

The evenings after a fight were strange, Stephen Strange decided with a private chuckle. It was like the adrenaline had left them all exhausted, but after a few hours of rest no one really knew what to do anymore. Romanoff had suggested a movie night, which was apparently something they’d often done in the early Avengers days, but no one seemed to be able to sit still, so most of them had ended up abandoning the movie, Natasha included.

Strange was sitting in the kitchen now, sipping his tea while watching Tony cook them all a three course meal, or so it seemed with all the pans and bowls surrounding him. He was really just making them pancakes, simply to have something to do. Tony Stark liking cooking and being good at it too was the most surprising thing Strange had found out about him thus far.

“You want chocolate chips in your pancakes?”

Strange turned his gaze from Tony to Peter Parker, who was sitting across from him at the table doing homework (another strange sight). Peter nodded eagerly. “Yes, please.”

“I got you. Wizard?”

Strange considered not replying, but the nickname brought Tony immense joy so he let it go for now. “I’m fine.”

“You sure? It’s now or never.” Tony shook the package.

Strange felt himself grin. “I’m sure.”

“Suit yourself.” He dumped some of the chips into the pan. “Pete?”

“Hm?”

“Can you go ask the others if they want chocolate chips?”

Peter obliged without a word, and suddenly they were alone.

It would be the perfect time to set his plan in motion, but Tony was unfortunately occupied with a task he couldn’t pause, so Strange just watched him flip a pancake over idly. No one had asked him why he was wearing his cloak, though Tony had raised an eyebrow when he’d come down with (new) sweatpants, a (new) t-shirt, and the cloak hanging on his back. Maybe they thought him strange enough as it was (ha ha).

Peter returned quickly. “Mr Barton wanted some.”

“No one else?”

“No.”

“Damn, I’m surrounded with the wrong crowd, no offense, Wizard.”

“None taken, Tinman.”

Tony’s lips twitched upward, but he didn’t comment on it. “Pete, before you sit. Can you tell Thor his pancakes are ready?”

Peter was off again. Maybe Strange should leave and let Tony work in peace, but he quite liked watching him, as creepy as that sounded.

Peter returned with Thor, who grabbed the plate gratefully and sat down beside Strange. And that was how they all eventually ended up at the kitchen table, even though half of them had already devoured their meal. Strange liked the unity and felt a twinge of sadness at the thought of leaving.

“Okay, I gotta ask,” Barton eventually said. “Why are you wearing that thing? Should we be worried about some sort of attack you somehow know about?”

Strange let out a laugh. “As far as I’m aware we’re in the clear.”

“So?”

“I just like having it on me.”

“It makes you feel safe?” Peter asked. Strange quite liked that kid.

“Precisely.”

“That’s sweet.”

Strange turned to Tony. “Careful, Stark. This cloak might make me feel safe, but it’s got a mind of its own.”

“Oh yeah yeah, I believe you.”

Now would be the perfect time to start his plan.

But.

He rather liked the calm, as calm as a whole group of superheroes could be. And he had a feeling Stark wouldn’t appreciate his plan happening around so many people.

He leaned back. Next time.

* * *

 

Next time happened to be the next morning. He found Tony in the kitchen alone, nursing a cup of coffee and looking like he hadn’t slept at all.

“You’re up early,” Tony said when they locked eyes.

“I could say the same thing about you.”

Tony hummed. “Couldn’t sleep. You?”

“Time zones.”

“Ah.”

That wasn’t necessarily true, but Strange didn’t want to get into his own troubles right now. “Is there any coffee left?”

“Plenty.”

Strange poured himself a cup and sat down across from him. Tony examined him for a moment.

“I see you’re still wearing the cloak.”

“You see correctly.”

“Is the reason really safety?”

“Not entirely.”

Tony leaned back, waiting.

Strange gulped down some of his coffee before saying, “If you could carry all your creations around, wouldn’t you?”

“Sure.”

“They feel real, don’t they?”

“They do.”

“I didn’t make the cloak, but it would feel wrong to leave it in my room.”

“You don’t have to wear it, though. It can fly around fine on its own.”

“I wasn’t sure if it would get into people’s things.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.”

His plan was practically setting up itself. Strange took the cloak off quickly before Tony changed his mind, letting it levitate beside him. “Be free.”

“Hah.”

Tony watched it idly, but Strange could see curiosity dance in his eyes. They were similar in this way. Both of them never wanted to stop learning.

“You want to wear it?”

Tony turned to him. “What?”

“Do you want to wear it.”

“Can I?”

“I don’t think it will do anything, but sure.”

Tony frowned. “It won’t fly away with me, will it? Flying is fun and all, but only when I’m in control.”

Strange laughed. “No, I do believe you’re safe.”

“Well.” Tony looked at the cloak again. “Sure?”

The cloak levitated toward him without having to be asked, and Strange only hoped it remembered what he’d asked for the previous day.

Tony let out a breath when it landed on his shoulders and fell down like a proper cloak, weighing him down with its powers.

“Do I look good?” Tony asked, peering at the window behind Strange in an attempt to see his reflection.

“Absolutely regal,” Strange replied with a grin. “Maybe I would’ve let you have it if you hadn’t called it a wizard poncho.”

“I was stressed, okay?”

“Still. I can’t imagine it was happy about the nickname.”

That was the cloak’s cue, and fortunately it didn’t disappoint.

It wrapped itself around Tony’s body, trapping his arms to his sides before he could even react. “Uh, Strange? What’s it doing?”

“Not sure. Hugging you maybe?”

“I didn’t know it was this affectionate- oh.”

“Stark?”

A helpless grin had found Tony’s lips. “Strange, it-”

“What’s going on?”

But Tony couldn’t answer, because once he opened his mouth giggles started spilling out, slightly high pitched and glorious.

“Strange!” Tony cried. “Get it ohohoff!”

“I don’t control it,” Strange insisted, trying to hold back his grin. “What’s it doing? Why are you laughing?”

Tony didn’t reply. Strange felt slightly bad about the cloak having trapped his arms, but it wasn’t like they would be useful for anything anyway. He was delighted about the discovery of Stark’s sensitivity, and trying to hide it was excruciating, so he eventually allowed his grin to grow. Tony wouldn’t notice anyway.

“Make it stop!” he cried, doubling over. “Strahange!”

Strange wasn’t cruel, and he quickly snapped his fingers to get the cloak to back off. His plan had never involved actual prolonged torture.

Tony gasped for air, still doubled over and pointing at him. “You planned this.”

“I did not.”

“Don’t lie. You’re a terrible liar.”

Strange crossed his arms. “So what if I did?”

“If you did it means you got it to listen to you.”

“So?”

“So we obviously have to go mess with the others now.”

That wasn’t the reaction Strange had expected, but he liked it. “Any suggestions?”

“Let’s start with Barton and completely skip Romanoff for the sake of our lives. I feel like Pete needs to laugh a bit too.”

This was a start of a companionship Strange hadn’t known he’d wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my [tumblr](http://nhasablog.tumblr.com).


End file.
